


In Memoriam

by Ladycat



Series: Shadow'verse [14]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Found Families, Gen, Post: s05e22 The Gift, implied Xander Harris/Spike
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-12
Updated: 2014-02-12
Packaged: 2018-01-12 02:39:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1180936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ladycat/pseuds/Ladycat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Buffy is silent for so long that Tara's afraid that she's finally overstepped her boundaries.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Memoriam

_"Am I doing the right thing?"_

_Tara doesn't ask questions the way Willow would, trying to draw Buffy into answering her fears on her own. The psychology of that is sound, but Tara hates the circuitous method and the way it puts even more pressure on the questioner. "There isn't any right or wrong, Buffy," she says, hating that it comes out so earnestly. Buffy doesn't want earnestness. She wants comfort._

_"Dawn needs—" Buffy's words break off, the spark of indignation swallowed up into the black cloud of bitter understanding. Tara wishes she could touch Buffy now, hold her hand or offer her shoulder. But Buffy isn't wired to take comfort that way, and Tara doesn't know how else to offer it. "It's not supposed to be my choice. My responsibility."_

_It breaks Tara's heart to hear the little girl underneath Buffy's weariness. The others don't understand it. They only remember that Buffy is strong, the strongest person they've ever met. They forget that, in so many ways, all of them are still sheltered children and know so very little of life. Tara used to resent that about them. Now she's grateful they managed to keep their innocence for so long._

_A muffled sob from the back porch makes them both wince. Tara remembers wishing and waiting for a chance when she could finally contribute. To be more than Willow's Girlfriend and occasional power-booster._

_Finding her place now is a bittersweet gift she wishes she could return. "It's not a responsibility," Tara corrects. "It's a gift."_

* * * * * 

"Please, Tara? I promise I'll be good, really I will!"

Tara folded her arms beneath her breasts, no longer conscious of who she imitated any more. "I really don't think that's a good idea, Dawn."

Huffing, Dawn tossed long brown hair over her shoulder. The wheedling, _I'll-be-good-forever_ that all children could produce on demand disappeared in favor of mulish frustration. "What's so wrong with it?" she demanded, the caustic note in her voice becoming distressingly familiar. "I'm just gonna go out with a bunch of friends and ride around on a stinky horse in the hot sun."

"‘A stinky horse in the hot sun', huh?" Tara returned to the stove, stirring the pot of tomato sauce she was making. The move was calculated, partly dismissive, partly a pointed reminder of how important Tara was in Dawn's life. The smell of garlic and the surgary sweetness of cooking tomatoes filled the entire house. "Sounds like you really, _really_ , cross your heart, never do anything bad ever again, want to go."

She didn't need to turn around to know that Dawn was fighting back a smile. One teenage girl was nothing compared to raising three boys, two of whom were older than she was. Better, this time because Tara wasn't dealing with her own intensely destructive grief, or a father that was determined to do everything he could to undermine and belittle her. This time, Tara had _help_. 

A few seconds more of silence as Dawn forced her expression back into a pout, then came the totally expected sigh of capitulation. "There's, um, something else. That we want to do."

"Uh huh." Tara took a moment to wipe her own smile clear from her expression before turning a look of wry amusement over her shoulder. "Something your Dads won't approve of, of course."

* * * * * * 

_Buffy is silent for so long that Tara's afraid that she's finally overstepped her boundaries. She has something to offer now, something not even Mr. Giles can fully share with Buffy, but the relationship is very new and Buffy is an intensely private person. Sometimes, when she forgets why she is given this privilege of confidant, she is honored by it. Buffy's trust is very hard won._

_"A gift. Think I can return it for store credit?" Her lower lip trembles, and for a moment, the wavering quip appears to be the herald for the flood of tears Tara waits for. Then Buffy sobers and looks at Tara for the first time all evening. "I don't know what to do. How do I know what to do? I've never—I'm not—"_

_Tara finally sees the opening she's waited for and reaches out her hand. Buffy immediately takes it, twisting their fingers together so they're linked. The grip hurts, a little, but Tara doesn't object. Her hand is plump and very, very pink against Buffy's scarred, darkened one. "It's okay, Buffy. No one expects you to know what to do."_

_Except, of course, they all do. Buffy snorts, blinking rapidly, lips twisting into a painful approximation of a smile. "Yes, they do. I'm Buffy. Chosen gal. She Who Everybody Looks To. Even when I'm just Buffy, half-orphan, who doesn't know anything about insurance claims and custody battles or lawyers that look at you like they can't decide if they should pity you or just push you away, because hey—I certainly don't have the bucks to make it worth their while. Or both."_

_"Enough." The hint of iron startles Buffy out of her self-pity, eyes suddenly very wide. She looks like a doll when she does that, glassy and fake and breakable. It's the most honest expression she's worn in days. "You're not alone, Buffy. Willow's frantic trying to figure out ways to help, and you know you only need to ask Mr. Giles."_

_Dawn's voice raises sharply, suddenly, both girls instantly on their feet and halfway to the kitchen before a soothing male voice rumbles Dawn quiet. Tara retreats back to the sofa, using their still-joined hands to tug Buffy with her. She is being more calculating than is her nature, and she's nervous that she's going to mess it up—but she has to make Buffy see._

_"You can call him Giles," Buffy repeats automatically while her body sits with a gracefulness Tara can't envy. She knows she has her own grace, though hers will only be called ‘womanly'. "He'd actually prefer it."_

_It's not what she really wants to say, though, so Tara stays very still and quiet. Her mother taught her that when she was very young, snatching moments for meditation and ‘bird watching' when Tara's father was away and the boys occupied with something suitably manly. It wasn't until her mother's death and her father's disclosure that Tara understood why it'd been kept secret. Or why Tara's mother was so anxious she learn this particular skill better than the others._

_"You didn't mention Xander. Or Spike. Or you." There's no accusation in Buffy's words, but still they whistle through the air, sharp because the two Buffy has learned to trust above all else_ aren't _included._

_Tara squeezes Buffy's hand as tightly as she dares. Physical action and reaction influence Buffy more than words do and Tara has made herself a student of Buffy's language for the past week. "You know why."_

_That provokes a wince and a guilty nod._

* * * * * *

Dawn sighed theatrically, throwing herself onto the breakfast stools to kick herself into twirling circles and almost fall off. The first time she'd done that, Xander had nearly had a heart attack, certain that every little bump and bruise would require a trip to the emergency room and another lesson of what a failure he was. Until the moment Dawn actually _had_ fallen and gone whimpering to him for sympathy.

"It's really not a big deal," she tried again, hair fanning out with every twirl until she resembled a brown and dark pink cyclone. "I mean, we don't even have to tell them."

Tara snorted, a sound that always made Dawn giggle and look scandalized at the same time. "You want to go away for two entire days, Dawnie. I think they'll notice you're gone."

Dawn echoed the snort. "Overprotective, possessive freaks."

Turning off the burner, Tara settled the lid over the sauce and joined Dawn at the island. "Overprotective, possessive freaks that worry about you," she said. "And they have reason."

Wincing, Dawn stopped twirling and reached for the basket of fruit that Tara kept stocked, grabbing an orange and beginning to peel it. "I said I was sorry for that."

For what? Mystified, Tara ran through the past few weeks, then smiled and bumped her shoulder into Dawn's. "Sweetie. I knew where you were the whole time."

The orange dropped onto the counter with a wet squelch. "But—I mean, Spike—we—that is I—" Forcing herself quiet, Dawn's eyes flickered rapidly as she put things together. Elfin features, delicate and childlike despite the growing maturity inside, glared at the squashed orange—and then abruptly relaxed. "I shouldn't be relieved by that, but I think I kinda am. I don't want to make you mad at me."

Hugging Dawn was easy. Only Spike was allowed unlimited access, with Xander running a close second, but Dawn was as tactile as her sister was reticent and squirmed happily whenever it was Tara who hugged her. "You didn't, sweetie."

"I'm glad." Forgiveness assured, Dawn lost the beaming look in favor of a laser glare that was _all_ Spike's influence. "So why would they have reason, huh? I'll be with Alicia and her parents the whole time, really, and we'll be outdoors all day with the horses except when we're going to the concert that night, and it'll be safe and I'll be _fine."_

Tara wished she could sigh and put her head in her hands, or that Willow would appear with those cool, nimble fingers that were so good at soothing headaches away. "Dawnie, when was the last time Spike or Xander"— _or me,_ she wanted to add but didn't— "let you go anywhere by yourself in the last four months?"

"Oh. That's what you meant."

* * * * *

_"What if I mess it up? What if I'm so bad and she runs away and hates me?"_

_Tara is unable to stop the smile. "Who do you think she's going to run_ to _Buffy?"_

_They both glance to the back porch, unable to hear anything now. Buffy looks away first. "I don't know why she trusts him so much."_

_"Really?" It's getting easier to be blunter, more skeptical around Buffy. Each variation of Tara's behavior seems to make Buffy more and more willing to trust her. As if she_ knows _Tara has no other agenda. Which she doesn't. Tilting her head, Tara raises both eyebrows. "You really don't know?"_

_"I shouldn't trust him. Especially not with her." Buffy catches Tara's expression and has the grace to look ashamed. "I laughed at him when he told me that he loved me. And even when I'm not sure what he means by that... "_

_"You know he loves Dawn."_

_"Yes."_

_Not ‘yeah' and the distinction is like a thunderclap in Tara's mind. She wonders if Buffy is aware of what just happened or if she's so tightly wrapped in her own misery she can't see that she's finally made the decision to trust Spike. She's been heading that way for months now, particularly with Riley leaving and Mr. Giles unable to give her the support she needs, but the reality is still momentous. Particularly as she's not trusting Spike for herself. She's trusting him for Dawn._

_Cautious, nervous at her daring, Tara relates that to Buffy. "You say you're worried because you don't know how to act like a—a parent," she temporizes. The word is still too painful to be mentioned, a succession of relatives inflicting deeper and deeper wounds into Buffy with each condolence. "But that's what makes a good one, Buffy. To think about what a—what Dawn needs first."_

_"Dawn needs you." The words are quiet, almost whispered, but Tara hears them with the force of a gunshot. "She needs what you can give her."_

* * * * *

"Do you really think they'll say ‘no'?" The orange lay in pieces on the counter, leaking pale acid onto counters so cheap that they could probably melt under the corrosive liquid. Dawn ate a slice, then another, playing with the remaining bunches. She still picked at food more often then not. "I mean, it is for Alicia's birthday party. I kinda have to go, if I'm going to have any social life in the fall. Most of the kids at summer school think I'm a freak, and the rest don't know how to talk to me. I'm so looking forward to a whole _grade_ of people like that. And I promise that I really will be good, and if Spike wants to sneak into the concert with me, well, it's not like I could stop him."

"Dawn..." They've needed to have this conversation for a while, but Tara had avoided it. "Dawn, I can't make this decision for you. I can tell you what I think and what I think your Dads' reactions will be. But I'm _not_ your legal guardian."

It was a subject the five remaining adults had discussed, argued and fought about for the past two months. At first it had been easy. Dawn's real father—well, as real as the monks' time-warping allowed—had been reluctant about interfering. There was Buffy to provide a good excuse for months, and then after her death he'd pled shock and grief, authorizing Giles as temporary guardian so he could stay in the loving arms of his most recent secretary.

Tara didn't view many people with contempt, but Mr. Summers was one of them.

"Oh, god." Dawn swallowed heavily and leaned back into Tara's arms. "The in loco whatsit is about to run out, isn't it?"

Dawn's hair tickled her chin as she nodded. "Yes. That's where Mr. Giles is today, actually." There'd been a battle royale over who was to accompany him to the lawyer's, all four wanting to show up despite how awkward that would make the situation. The custody lawyer had very little respect for Mr. Summers, as well, but a genteel British adult always went over better than three kids in their early twenties, rabidly ready to defend their right to keep Dawn.

"Does he want me to go to L.A.?"

Tara thought about how to answer that, stroking Dawn's hair as she considered. The simple answer, of course, was ‘yes'. Mr. Summers was nothing if not obsessed with how things should be, and Dawn _should_ be with him. But he didn't want her. And she had four perfectly legal adults who would be perfectly happy to take over as guardian.

* * * * *

_Tara's stomach drops, shock keeping her locked into Buffy's grip. "I. . ." Swallowing as discreetly as she can, Tara tries to smile and retreats to the forms. "That's very nice of you, Buffy—"_

_"But nothing." The iron's back, a magnet running over the shattered pieces of Buffy's strength, pulling it back together. She does this, off and on, especially in Tara's presence. Tara is the only who is allowed to see just how broken Buffy really is, but she sees the core strength that's still underneath the hurt, too. Sometimes. "She needs_ you _, Tara. Someone who can give her the things I can't."_

_Later, much later, Tara will look back at this conversation with a kind of loving dread. But when she's here, sitting next to Buffy on Joyce's sofa, their hands so tightly wound together that Tara's not sure how to disengage or if she wants to, all she can feel is a twisted sense of honor and terror. "Buffy, all she wants from you is love."_

_Buffy snorts, the harsh sound loud in the room. "Yeah, she does. But I can't_ show _her that. I ... don't know how, not anymore. She's my sister and I love her—god, I love her more than anything—but it's all twisted up in needing to protect her. She's not_ just _my sister anymore, Tara." A single tear slips down her cheek as she stares imploringly at Tara. There's desperation in her gaze, and a sense of rightness that echoes in Tara's belly. "You can. Spike can. Xander can. Willow and Giles can, too. But I can't, Tara, I don't know how anymore. You said she's a gift, and she_ is— _but she's a gift I can't appreciate. Not anymore."_

_Tara is aware that she's breathing shallowly, hating the last impassioned speech even as she appreciates the maturity it took to say it. Because Buffy is right. Tara's position as outsider gives her a look inside the dynamics of the Scoobies that the members don't have. She knows that Buffy is right because Buffy can't even take care of herself. And all the rising to the occasion in the world will not help her become competent at it._

_She is the Slayer. And despite five years of fighting it, there is little else besides the Slayer left in her._

_Tara holds her as the tears finally come. She rocks and soothes her the way she will soothe Dawn not so many weeks in the future, murmuring the melodies her mother taught her, aching inside because there is no rest, no peace for the woman in her arms. There is only the fight, the responsibility, and the snatches of happiness she grabs along the way._

_Tara's eyes are as red as Buffy's by the time they both straighten. A scarred hand, dark from the sun, pared down to the bone from worry, brushes a stray tear from her cheek. "Will you? I can't ask them. But you... please, Tara. Will you?"_

* * * * *

Spike found them in the living room, curled up around each other as they stared at the television. "You lot look cheerful," he noted. Working himself into the Tara-Dawn tangle was expected, both of them letting him move their bodies as he wanted. When he was finally at the bottom of the pile, both girls curled up like kittens against him, he sighed happily. Then frowned. "Oi! What'd I say about this movie? It ruined the book."

Tara giggled quietly, staring at the patterns Dawn's hair made over Spike's chest, prisms of reflected light dazzling her. "You're just jealous of Mr. Darcy," she teased, a part of her mind still in awe that she felt comfortable enough to _tease_ the homicidal vampire she was snuggled against. "He pulls off that dark-haired curly look so well."

"Evil wench," Spike retaliated, brushing his lips over her hair. "Never should've told you what I used to look like. You're heartless, you are."

Dawn poked him in the stomach, hard enough that he winced but not hard enough that he was forced to remove his arms from around the two of them. " _She's_ heartless? Dork."

That earned Dawn the same glancing kiss, though not the verbal comeback they were both expecting. Worse, Spike appeared to be actually watching Colin Firth bumble and stumble his words without the inevitable Angel comparisons. "Hear you've been invited to a birthday party," he said instead, shocking both of them into stillness. "Down in L.A next weekend."

"Yes?" Dawn darted a glance to Tara, who shook her head lightly. "I, um, have to r.s.v.p. soon. If I'm going to go. And I really want to, because there'll be horseback riding and you _know_ I've been wanting to do that for ages, and there's a concert that night and I promise I won't say anything if you want to come along, really."

Spike shushed her, fingers busy in her hair. It was the way they quieted each other, Spike forcing Dawn into mellow relaxation while he catered to his own need for constant tactile connection. The sight usually made Tara sigh happily, placidly watching the way their bodies moved together in perfect harmony, so attuned and _right_ with each other. Now there was too much riding on what Spike hadn't mentioned.

"Think the girl's parents will mind if Xander and I drive you down?"

Tara sat up, aware that Spike's attention was on _her_ , not Dawn. She studied him while Dawn squealed happily, arms around his neck, words babbled into his skin while he laughed and jostled her back. His eyes remained on Tara's, though, full of a seriousness that belied his amused voice.

* * * * *

_"Yes."_

_Tara is startled when she hears herself answer. There's none of the hemming or nervous stuttering that she's expecting. Buffy is asking for a commitment not even Willow has yet to ask for, requiring things her own sibs hadn't received, all for a girl that she is in no way beholden to. Yet there's no hesitation when she looks inside herself. She's responding to Buffy's needs, but she knows that, like Buffy's other friends, she'd do so without ever being formally asked._

_"Yes," she repeats, suddenly smiling. Tears make her eyes sting, but there is no sorrow in them. Not now, when the love Buffy denies so strong shines from her like sunshine. "Of course. I'd be honored."_

_For a moment, Buffy looks sixteen and beautiful again._

* * * * *

"There was a living will, you know." The night air was cool against her skin, a breeze teasingly dancing with her hair. Beside her, a curl of smoke flitted with the moonlight. The scent of it still made her cough if he blew it too close to her, something he was careful not to do, but the sight of it was comforting. Homey. "The lawyers didn't know what to make of it, given she was never the formal guardian in the first place."

"So it went to the judge for arbitration?"

The curl of smoke wavered, the muscles resting against her back tensing as Spike nodded. "Yeah. Giles called in a few favors, got it for that afternoon. Xan said the judge flicked through the case, let him an' Giles say maybe three words before making her decision. Called Dawn's da all sorts of names, apparently, and instructed the clerk to make sure the wanker got a copy, so he'd know what a low opinion this judge had of him."

"Wow. She must've really been pissed."

"Wish I could've been there. Would've added my own two pence." Spike chuckled a little, rightly reading the sudden rigidness in her body. "Relax, Monroe. Got no paperwork, do I? Couldn't have gone." Oh, that rankled with him, but Tara heard no bitterness in his voice. Annoyance, yes, but a great deal of acceptance.

Tilting her head back, she tucked her ear next to his and watched the spangled bands of stars. "So now Mr. Giles is guardian." That explained why Willow had come back in a testy mood, wanting to be grateful that they'd received full custody of Dawn and guilty that she hadn't been named—and hadn't really wanted to be.

Spike shifted so abruptly that Tara fell backward, right into the waiting circle of his arms. "Is that what Red told you?" he demanded. He didn't let her completely sit up, tugging her more fully against him in a position usually reserved for Dawn at her neediest. "Giles doesn't have custody, Tara. You do. You and Xander."

But ... Tara tried to speak, the words stuck firmly in her throat, glued with the peanut butter she and Dawn had eaten not an hour before. She heard Spike's vague explanations as to why she and Xander didn't have to get married, and how it was actually a good thing that Anya had high tailed it a few months before, too stunned to really hear the words. Custody. She had custody. Had she known that was what Buffy had really asked, with Joyce barely a full week in the earth? Had she guessed?

Had she been the mother, the friend, that Buffy had wanted her to be? Had she loved Dawn as Buffy wanted her to be loved? Had all her mistakes, all the little things Tara agonized over, fought with the others about, been excusable? Buffy could be unforgiving when she felt she had cause. She could close herself off, lock herself into the waking coma she'd slipped into while Tara babbled about a big day coming. Had Tara done what that hard, loving, confusing, wonderfully _human_ woman had wanted? Dawn was everything to Buffy. She was sister and daughter, living legacy of Buffy and Joyce Summers.

Had Tara any right to be what Buffy could never be?

_Yes._

Spike's hand brushed against her cheek, checking for a temperature he could not gauge. "Monroe? Went all spacey there. You aren't, well—thing is, y'see, that it's kind of a package deal, you and Xan, and I know Xan's already said—"

Shifting that final inch, Tara silenced Spike's babbling with a kiss. "Of course I will," she said, beaming and joyful, amused at Spike's shell-shocked look of surprise. Delicately closing his jaw, she kissed him again, sweet and chaste, laughing as he absently kissed her back. There would be mourning later, of course. This, of everything that had happened in the last few months, made things final. But she'd feel that later.

"Er. You—m' _flattered_ ," Spike stuttered.

Laughing, Tara climbed to her feet. "I want to come with you to L.A.," she said, feeling strangely light and free. This wasn't a responsibility, no more than one she had already willingly taken. This was a gift. Buffy's most precious gift. "When you go to the lawyer and sign all those documents, I want my name on that line with Xander's. And I want to be the one to tell Dawn."


End file.
